The Demon In Jersey
by Orange Autumn
Summary: Sam and Dean arrive in New Jersey when they hear of unnatural killings in the area; who knew they'd end up coming face to face with a legend. Sick!Hurt!Dean, Hurt!Sam. Set in Season 1 after Bugs.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Heya pplz! This is my newest fic. It was done over the course of quite a few months, and with the amazing awesome help of Enkidu07. This whole thing started over writing a sick!Dean story for her. It began small and morphed into this 20,000+ word beast, well, when you add the sequel, too. It's definitely a beast for me, since I haven't written something so long in my life. I know AJWesley has already done a totally wonderful story about the Jersey Devil, but I decided to have my own go at it.

So, infinitely huge credit to Enkidu07. I have nothing but love for her! She helped me with every bit of this story, being a totally great motivator with her wonderful feedback.

I put POV markers before each section, just to avoid any possible confusion. I do love to jump around with those.

**Summary: **_Sam and Dean arrive in New Jersey when they hear of unnatural killings in the area, who knew they'd end up coming face to face with a legend. _Sick!Hurt!Dean, Hurt!Sam. Set in Season 1 after Bugs.

xXxXx

**The Demon In Jersey**

_Chapter 1_

xXxXx

_Dean's POV_

_Shit!_ Dean Winchester thought for the millionth time that day. If there was anything he hated more than demons and the like, it was that tingly, pressurized feeling he got behind his nose that signified the impending doom of a nasal explosion. He hated it even more when the feeling came and nothing happened. At least the sneeze was a relief of the pressure, otherwise it just built below his eyes and sorely tempted him to punch himself in the nose.

Sam's twitchy I'm-trying-to-figure-out-what-you're-doing face was just another thing getting on his nerves. Sure, his impending sneeze faces probably looked awkward and confusing, but he sure as hell wasn't about to explain to Sam that a cold was coming on. He made it a point to keep Sam unaware of sicknesses he was experiencing as long as he could, and sometimes he even managed to get better with Sam none-the-wiser. Of course, most of those times he'd had the good aid of off-brand benadryl or sudafed. He wasn't so lucky this time around, and he could merely hope things didn't get any worse.

He scowled unhappily as the old Winchester saying "if things can get worse, they usually do" rose unbidden in his mind anytime he used the word hope.

"Careful, Dean, your ugly's showing." He heard Sam say dryly across from him.

He came back to himself with a start, having forgotten where he was for who knows how long. He felt the unhappy pull of his features and carefully smoothed his expression over, smiling smugly at his brother. "I'm devilishly handsome no matter what I'm doin', Sammy." Dean supplied confidently before waggling his brows.

Sam let the comment fly over his shoulder in favor of reaching his daily quota of nagging Dean. "You've been spacing out all day. And you keep making these weird faces. What's going on?"

Dean sat back in his seat nonchalantly, picking up his now heavily sweating glass of sweet tea. He was about to answer after a hearty gulp, but the striking watered down taste stole his already waning attention. He stared into the glass, green eyes narrowing on the sad slices of nearly melted ice cubes. He had no idea what possessed him to get iced tea instead of a beer or better yet, coffee, but when the waitress had sidled up, he'd blurted it out anyway. He guessed that the gradually growing stuffiness of his head was mixing him up.

"-dirty granny pantie stealer. Dean Winchester eats his boogers when he thinks no one is looking."

"Dude!" Dean snapped as he came out of another daze, sluggishly processing Sam's words.

"Oh, you're back." Sam drawled sarcastically, not even having the decency to look Dean in the eye, instead giving his laptop his full attention. He spoke before Dean could even open his mouth. "And thanks for telling me you're sick. We're out of cold medicine, and we're an hour from a decent drugstore, not to mention, we don't have the time to spare to get you some medicine. And don't try and tell me you're not sick. I heard your snotty snuffle when you were in watery tea land." His sharp glare served as a period to his mini-tirade.

Dean returned Sam's glare with one of his own. "I'm fine. It's just a small funk."

Sam frowned and turned his gaze back to the monitor. "Maybe I should do this one al-"

"Whoa, whoa, stop! You're not friggin' doin' anything on your own, Sam! Don't even start this shit with me. I told you I'm fine. We're gonna check this lead out. Keyword,_ we're_!"

Sam's lips thinned into a grim line, eyes challenging his brother, but Dean refused to back down.

After a minute or two, Sam gasped in frustration and snapped his laptop closed. "Fine!"

Dean grinned triumphantly and stood up. He clapped Sam on the shoulder as he passed. "Your treat."

xXxXx

_Sam's POV_

Sam slipped into the passenger seat of the Impala just as Dean was tossing a tape into his makeshift collection box with one hand while the other popped in ACDC's "Back In Black" album. Sam promptly rolled his eyes. It wasn't like he hadn't heard this one for the fifty millionth time.

Sam stopped his brother's hand from turning the volume up as they exited the roadside diner parking lot. "Intel, Dean. Can't exactly hear me when your ears are bleeding."

Dean flashed Sam an annoyed glance as he settled his hand back on the wheel. "This job is takin' us nowhere, Sam. I'll admit the stories are strange, but come on, a bunch of small towns full of drunk bumpkins? They're just casting around for excuses to freshen up their dull, tree-filled lives. And my volume stays at a perfectly respectable level."

"Dude, people's pets, local wildlife. They're all being found in random places, chewed up with their bones broken from high falls. Plus, there's numerous sightings of a flying creature in the area. Oh, and let me reiterate that this is where the Legend of the Jersey Devil originated. It couldn't hurt to look into it." There was a pause before he went on. "Your idea of respectable volume levels are warped by years of gun handling, by the way."

"Details, Sammy, details." Dean muttered, waving a hand vaguely. "So we're going to Tanya what's-her-name's house, right? The one with that Little Miss... Pretty Princess poodle?"

Sam sighed. "Just Miss Princess, Dean. And her name's Tanya Walton."

Dean nodded like he'd processed the information, but it was apparent it went in one ear and out the other. "Just remember when she's sobbing all over you that this was your idea. People who name their animals froofy names are always trouble."

"Whatever." Sam grumbled in exasperation.

xXxXx

_Sam's POV_

_Your idea..._

Dean's words echoed throughout Sam's head as he held the distraught middle-aged woman in his arms. He kept giving her awkward pats on the back as she wailed mostly incoherent exclamations of her late dog. "So young!" She'd screech, or "Shmoopykins!"

Dean, of course, was grinning madly from the one-seater on the other side of the coffee table. Sam looked over at him in time to see his brother mouth 'told ya so!' No sense in being subtle with Dean... cause it wasn't like his entire body language wasn't screaming the words.

It was about ten seconds later that Dean let loose a monstrous sneeze, startling both Sam and Mrs. Walton. The younger hunter watched with barely contained glee as his brother cringed, hand still over his face.

"Uh... bathroom?" Dean said from behind his hand, shooting Mrs. Walton an apologetic look.

"Oh...of course, dear. Down the... hall and to... the left." She supplied, sniffing frequently in-between her words as she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

Sam gave his brother a brow raise that spoke volumes. Dean glared petulantly over his fingers and stalked off down the hall.

Getting back to business, Sam put a comforting hand on Mrs. Walton's arm and turned the puppy eyes up a notch. "I understand this is hard, Mrs. Walton,"

"Please, call me Tanya."

"-Tanya, but in order for us to catch this thing and put it down, I'm going to need a recount of last night."

Mrs. Walton, to her credit, seemed to pull herself together and sit up straighter. "Yes, of course. I was very upset last night. I'm sure the police report was just ghastly." She took a deep breath, seemingly preparing herself. "Well... it was about six thirty when I let Miss Princess out for her evening tinkle."

Sam nodded, encouraging her to go on with a brief squeeze of her shoulder. He was glad Dean wasn't in the room, because he was pretty sure the older hunter would've found Tanya's reference to a pee break downright giggle-worthy.

"I always stand by the back door and wait so I can let her in right after. Then I give her a bath and..." Her voice faltered briefly. "And I feed her supper. My little baby was doing her business when there was this ungodly screeching. She...she started to run back toward the house, but... she just wasn't... her little legs..." There was another round of eye dabbing. "Needless to say, that horrible creature swooped out of nowhere and took my Princess away." Mrs. Walton heaved a heart-broken sigh. "They found her out in the woods about a mile from here... I'm sure you know the rest." She shook her head, shoulders slumping. "It was... unnatural... the short glimpse I got was even more than I'd ever like to see... it's head... like a... a horse.. or some kind of large nosed dog... a bull terrier perhaps.. yes.."

Sam watched as her brow creased in thought. Dean reentered the room then, scratching at the tip of his nose. He walked over and sat down without jarring Mrs. Walton from her thoughts.

"It had... bat wings.. or something like it. I don't quite remember that part very well. Just its body. Long legs and some kind of thick tail. Black fur... or possibly brown... it was dark out." She looked up, forehead lined with her concern. "I'm sorry... that's all I really have for you... I dare say it shouldn't be hard to identify if you come across it."

Sam nodded, sharing a look with his brother. "Thank you for your time, Tanya."

"Yes, well, you boys be careful. As it is with that awful Jersey Devil myth going around for so long, I am apprehensive about that thing's capture. It's unfortunate, but I think I'll be moving far from here." She sniffled. "Too many memories..."

Sam offered a few more rueful pats, catching Dean's insensitive eye roll out of the corner of his eye.

xXxXx

_Sam's POV_

Sam smacked Dean across his jacketed shoulder before rounding the Impala to the passenger side. "You're a jerk, you know that? Just cause it's a dog, doesn't mean the friendship is any less important."

Dean gave Sam the stink-eye from across the stretch of metal roof. "Hey, I didn't say anything, did I?"

Sam flopped down into his seat and sighed. He considered arguing his point, but Dean was obviously in a surly mood thanks to his encroaching cold.

"Wh-wh-"

Sam looked over in alarm as his brother sneezed noisily out the driver side window. Sniffing afterwards, he turned back to Sam trying to look unaffected. "Where to?"

The corner of Sam's mouth curled slightly, but Dean's warning look kept it from turning into a smirk. "Rufus Higgins. Another witness. He lives to the north of the Pine Barrens."

"Giddyup." Dean said flatly as he pulled out onto the road. His hand lashed out and thwacked Sam in the chest a moment later.

Sam shot him a murderous look and raised a fist.

"_Ah_! No hitting the driver! Those are the rules of the road, Sammy." His big brother said with the utmost seriousness even though he leaned more toward his door and poised his right elbow to shield from a counter attack.

Sam lowered his arm, and sank down into his seat. "I'll just have to wait till you're not driving then."

Dean promptly stuck his tongue out like the five year old he was.

xXxXx

_Sam's POV_

As they ground up the drive to Rufus's house the screen door opened and the man himself stepped onto the dingy porch. The thing that immediately stood out about him was the shotgun grasped in his hands.

Dean and Sam shared an apprehensive look as Dean parked the Impala a reasonable distance from the house, both brothers stepping slowly from the car.

"If he shoots my car, I'll never let you hear the end of it. Not ever." Dean growled under his breath.

Sam only refrained from rolling his eyes so he could keep his attention on their latest witness.

"Who're you two?" Rufus called gruffly, fingers drumming along the pump of his Remington 870.

"I'm Scott Young, and that's my brother, Brian. We're animal control, sir," Sam responded, unable to continue as Rufus interrupted him skeptically.

"Ain't no animal control I ever seen be drivin' a car like that."

"It's a family business, Mr. Higgins. We don't use our van unless we have an animal to transport. We're just here to ask some questions about what you saw, then we'll be out of your hair."

"The police hire you guys or sum'in?" Rufus more stated than asked, grip relaxing on his shotgun.

"Yes sir," Dean cut in. "A few of the guys know us down at the station. We mostly do our business over in Pennsylvania, though."

"So you must be pretty good, huh?"

Dean offered a believably friendly grin, but Sam could tell he wanted nothing more than to get this over and done with.

"Show some ID, if ya don't mind." Rufus grumbled next, leaning forward when both brothers stepped up to the porch railing, wallets flipped open to their Animal Control badges as well as the regular IDs that went with them.

"Mhm hm," the older man grunted in approval before he sat down in an old wooden chair and propped his shotgun against the wall of the house. "Come on up here an' take a seat an' I'll tell ya about what I saw."

Sam smiled in thanks and partly in relief as he started up the short stretch of steps before the porch. It was always a relief to avoid being chased off someone's property, especially if they were wielding a shotgun.

When Dean purposefully rounded Sam and dropped into the chair closest to Rufus, the younger hunter had to stamp down on his annoyance. Dean's protective measures were starting to get on his last nerve. And even when he'd brought it up, Dean simply replied with excuses like "What if someone's tryin' to steal my baby? I'll have to hop your giant ass to get out the door." or "You didn't see the funky stain on that chair?"

Sam sat down begrudgingly next to Dean who gestured for Rufus to go on.

"I got a dog, you see. An old bloodhound, been with me for years. He's rassled with black bears and coyotes. He's a mean son'a bitch. Ya know where he is now?" Rufus growled, before thumbing to the house behind him. "In my room hidin' under the bed like a coward. Ever since he seen that damn flyin' beast, he won't come out for nothin'. He won't eat neither, not even when I push it under the bed for 'im."

Dean sneezed into the crook of his elbow. Sam couldn't help but smirk behind the hand scratching at his nose. At least his brother was getting better at catching them now. This one was far less noisy, and devoid of snot.

"Sorry. Allergies." The older hunter explained lamely, attempting to sniffle quietly.

Rufus just nodded and continued on. "We was out last night about ten yards or so into the Pines, just a routine gatherin' of wood. We're both old men an' all, so the chill gets to us easily these days. It was just about sunset, dyin' light filterin' through the trees when there was this cry of somethin' awful. Could hear branches snappin' above as whatever it was grew closer. Buddy starts scramblin' around me, whimperin' and barkin' so I put myself low and right up against a tree. I know this thing is in the trees, so I'm figurin' if it can fly I better stay out of openin's."

The older man rubs at his beard stubble then, a haunted look entering his eyes. "It came down on the tree I was leanin' on, right behind me. This big paw swipes around just as I leap away an' down onto the dirt. That's when I saw it." Rufus shudders. "Had it's ugly ol' head craned around the trunk, lookin' directly at me. Looked like some kind of furry T. rex, 'cept it had ears. Course it was only about the size of an adult bear. Pretty sure I saw wings on its back, but it had 'em drawn in. Its paw looked more like a tiny clawed hand when I got a better look at it clingin' to the bark."

"Did you get a look at the rest of its body?" Sam questioned in a somber tone.

"Aw hell naw. I looked over at Buddy, shakin' in his furry boots, and I get up and hightail it. I yell for 'im to get a move on, an' he does thankfully. I didn't look back, just went about zig-zaggin' through them trees. I'll never forget the sound of it tearin' after me though... went after Buddy at one point, could barely tell their screechin' apart. Made it to the house, and Buddy tore in so fast after me nearly swept me off my feet. That's when he parked himself under the bed. There was some rustlin' outside a bit after it was all over, but I haven't seen the thing since. Course, that was two nights ago. I'm assumin' its a night creature, but that don't stop me from carrying this baby around." Rufus rumbled on, patting the shotgun next to him. "I know I looked pretty whacky comin' out with a shotgun, but the hell if I'm lettin' that thing get the drop on me."

xXxXx

_Sam's POV_

Dean heaved a tired sigh as he dropped into the driver's seat. "I'm almost afraid to actually see the damn Jersey Devil. It's probably just as fucked up as these people are describing it."

Sam waved to Rufus on the porch, the man merely nodding back since he had his shotgun in his hands again. "Hell if I know..." Sam replied, just as tired. "I can't make any sense out of what they're seeing... It's nothing we've ever dealt with before, that's for sure. I don't think Dad even bothered to take the Jersey Devil myth seriously. There's just so much crap on it and so many different witness reports, I think he wrote it off as a scary bedtime story that got way out of control." Sam sighed and pushed his bangs back from his face while Dean started up the car and pulled out onto the road.

"With these violent attacks on people's animals lately... the only thing I can really come up with is that it is real, and people are growing too close to the Pine Barrens. It's upsetting the thing. Could be some kind of territorial deal... especially if it is anything like a dog..."

Dean rubbed at his forehead with one hand. "So do we scope out the area around Walton's house? That's where it was last... and if we're gonna use the fact that it was at Rufus's before that, we can guess it's going South."

Sam nodded. "It's the best plan we have, but if we don't run into it tonight we're leaving in the morning to get your ass some medicine."

Dean made a face and rolled his eyes.

Sam's hand whapped him upside the head. "Whoops, my hand slipped." He explained, all innocent eyed at Dean's betrayed look.

"Rules, Sam!"

"My hand slipped! _Ow, hey_!" Sam cried, rubbing his arm.

"Whoops, my hand slipped." Dean parroted, fending off Sam's next attack. "Hey, _hey_! Don't make me sneeze on you!"

* * *

_TBC..._

**A/N:** This story is totally self-indulgent for me, lol, especially concerning the boys. Just to put that out there. Most of the humor in here is humor I myself enjoy, which can get excessively childish and stupid. It's why I love movies like Superbad. =D


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Enter Rachelle! Almost like the actual books, right? I love those side characters they introduce in the SPN books. I had to do it myself. Total credit of the character to Enkidu07. =D

xXxXx

**The Demon In Jersey**

_Chapter 2_

xXxXx

_Rachelle's POV_

Rachelle Williams made her way up the stairs of her recently rented two story, slippered feet shuffling along the old beige carpet as she hit the top step and proceeded down the short hall. She entered the master bedroom and crouched a few feet from the end of the bed. "Gabe..." She called softly but not without exasperation. "_Gabe_, come on, it's just you and me now. I have your brush?" She attempted to entice, running her fingers over the bristles of the comb so he could hear the familiar noise.

She waited patiently and sure enough, a sleek black head popped out from under the bed skirt. "Yeah, that's it. See? Perfectly safe."

Gabe eyed her suspiciously, or well, what she figured was suspiciously before he creeped out, ears perked.

"No neighbors, okay?"

Another suspicious look around, and Gabe finally decided she was telling the truth. He trotted the rest of the way to her and arched his back into the comb as it ran along his fur.

Rachelle groomed him happily, glad to see he wasn't cowering anymore. She couldn't imagine getting any luckier with this housing arrangement. An older woman was renting out a few houses for cheap that were family owned near the Pine Barrens. She'd been lucky enough to land one of the homes since a school friend was the grand-daughter of the landlady. She only needed the place for a few weeks as it was, just enough time to finish up a necessary class for her Ph.D, then she could head back up to Maine and finish out her schooling altogether.

She grinned to herself as she stood up and headed downstairs. All these years of hard work would finally pay off. She'd have her official diploma, and then she'd be on her way. She'd buy a nice house, maybe even meet a nice guy to buy the nice house with, and bask in loan-free bliss. Well, once she paid it off.

Her brows rose in surprise when Gabe rubbed up against her legs. "Oh, so you're coming out now, huh?" Crouching down, she gave him a few thorough pets before moving to the fridge. "I knew you'd warm up to this place with a little time. The guys below our place are nice, but they're kind of noisy, aren't they?"

Gabe stared up at her and meowed right on cue.

Rachelle snickered lightly and set the cat brush on the counter before pulling out a container of grape juice. She was just about to grab a glass from the cabinet when the power went out, darkening the kitchen dramatically.

Gabe's quizzical meow echoed in the small space.

"Just great." Rachelle murmured, trying to remember where she'd put the flashlight she'd packed. Looking out the kitchen window, she saw there was still enough light from the sunset to be able to navigate to the breaker box. She wouldn't need to bother with the flashlight.

"I'll be right back, Gabe. Don't freak out." She said with a grin as she closed the fridge and passed him, bright cat eyes following her to the back door.

She stepped out of her house shoes and slipped on her hiking boots without tying the laces before she opened the door. Pulling her fleece hoodie closer to her body, she moved into the chilly near twilight and headed to the left of the backyard path. She spied the breaker box above a break in the bushes, right where Mrs. Tucket said it'd be, thankfully.

Grasping the latch, she moved it over and opened the metal cover. It was a bit hard to see in the steadily dimming daylight, but when she felt around, she caught the breaker out of line from the others. Flipping it back, she saw the kitchen light come on again, and it brought a relieved smile to her face.

Rachelle closed the box and latched it, momentarily distracted by what caused the breaker to flip in the first place. Maybe the wiring was faulty? This was a pretty old house, and it had been built by family. Or maybe when she opened the fridge, the inside light coming on caused a surge? She shook her head, slightly irritated by the whole matter. She'd make sure to get her flashlight out before testing the fridge theory as crazy as it was.

Looking up, she caught Gabe's flashing cat eyes in the middle of the lawn, the light from the kitchen window offering a dim outline of his form. He was snooping around in the grass, venturing further out with his curiosity.

She moved out toward him, about to herd him back into the house when the porch floodlight caught her passing form and turned on. Rachelle froze immediately, fear snaking down her spine in icy tendrils.

Some huge animal was perched in the tree hanging over the lawn, and her stuttering thoughts couldn't process what it was. It wasn't like any wild animal she'd ever seen, and it was that realization that kept her frozen to the spot.

Gabe had started when the light came on, but was otherwise oblivious to the animal in the tree, that is, until it shifted. Gabe's head snapped to the disturbance, a surprised hiss sounding from him as he saw it before he whipped around to dart back to the house. The creature was one step ahead and already on its way to swoop for him.

Rachelle had been frozen in uncomprehending horror, but when she saw it land on her cat, she screamed. "_Gabe!!_"

Gabe yowled noisily under the screeching creature before suddenly bursting from in between its clawed paws and rocketing toward the back door. The cat hollered his adamant disapproval of the whole ordeal all the way across the lawn and into the house.

With the odd lapse into silence, Rachelle belatedly noticed that she was still a good five feet or so from the back door. The animal out on the lawn seemed to notice this too as it looked from the lit doorway to her still form. She felt a scream bubbling up as its glowing eyes settled on her, but it caught in her throat. Instead, her body instinctively started to dash for the safe, lit-up haven in front of her. She was stunned when she ended up on the ground, thinking the creature already had her, but it was with dread that she realized she'd tripped on her untied shoelaces.

As she swung her head around to look at it, she saw it moving toward her on two legs, huge jowl hanging open and dripping slobber. The only thing she could think of was why, oh, why did she have to trip on her shoelaces? Of all the B-horror movie clichés.

It shrieked two feet from her and reared its head up.

'_Kick it! Do something! It's going to eat you!_' She mentally screamed, but her legs and arms were locked from the absurdity of it all. She couldn't believe what was happening.

Then it was bending down and she knew this was it, the end. She was going to die an awful, gory death. No time to say goodbye to anyone, no time to even grasp the full desperation of the situation.

Rachelle squeezed her eyes shut, numbing shock soaked into every part of her body.

The report of gunfire crackled brokenly through her consciousness as well as the pained keening of the unnatural animal. Rachelle forced her eyes open, catching a man moving swiftly but steadily across the lawn after the thing, his gun lighting up patches of night briefly with each bullet fired.

She let out a frightened cry when another man suddenly crouched in front of her.

"Whoa, whoa. It's okay. You're safe, you're safe."

Rachelle looked up into warm hazel eyes framed by long brown locks of unruly hair and immediately passed out.

xXxXx

_Sam's POV_

Sam shook his head as Dean sneezed violently three times in a row. It seemed like the minute they'd stepped into the woods, his brother's cold had gotten worse. There was excessive sniffling going on now.

"Maybe you do have allergies." Sam snarked from behind his brother, narrowly dodging the thin tree branch Dean conveniently forgot to hold for him.

"Up... _up_.." Dean began to retort nastily before another sneeze seized him.

"And away!" Sam finished with a grin, his flashlight held under his chin just so Dean could see his utter amusement.

Dean placed his own flashlight under his chin, trying for a menacing expression, but he just ended up looking like he smelled something really bad. Courtesy of his current condition, Sam was sure. "Keep it up, Sammy." He grumbled. "We'll see how pleasant I make it for you the next time you're sick."

Sam was about to reply with something akin to "I'm shakin' in my little demon huntin' boots," but the distinct scream of a woman redirected their attention. It sounded like a name had been screamed, too.

"Shit!" Dean swore before tearing off to their left, Sam close on his heels. They pushed their legs harder as the shrieks of two animals echoed through the trees. If he wasn't mistaken, Sam thought one sounded like the cries of a cat. It would fit the Jersey Devil's pattern, but with Rufus's description of the Jersey Devil's aggressive nature, he could only hope the woman was safe.

There was a tense silence, the only sound being Sam and Dean's hurried footsteps and controlled panting, then they saw the sideview of a house, backyard lit up by a floodlight. They heard the shriek of the Jersey Devil just as it popped into view after skirting a tree, it's oddly shapen figure looming over a woman on the ground.

Dean already had his gun drawn by the time Sam was reaching for his, and then he was firing. Sam couldn't help but admire Dean's smooth and precise ability when it came to long-range shots. Even when he wasn't feeling his best. The random and completely out-of-place feeling of being six and thinking Dean was the shit briefly wavered through him.

He sharply snapped back to himself as Dean moved out ahead of him, gun going off on the creature in a steady, unrelenting pattern. Each bullet hit its mark even as the creature wailed and took off for the trees.

Trusting Dean not to plunge into the forest after the creature by himself, Sam skidded to the fallen woman's side. He kept his hands off at her frightened cry, but offered soothing words.

"Whoa, whoa. It's okay. You're safe, you're safe."

Wide blue eyes looked up at him, emotions flitting through them rapidly. Fear, confusion, awe. Her eyelids fluttered the next second before closing all the way, her body losing all its tension.

Sam caught her head before it could thunk against the graveled path, then immediately went about checking her over for injuries, frowning at her scraped palms. She must've tried to run and fell. His gaze traveled down to the untied shoes, and his brows furrowed. So she'd obviously gone outside for something, which led him to assume she'd been out here before the Jersey Devil showed up.

Dean's footsteps caught him off-guard. "Man, that thing can really fly." He said in mild amazement. "And fast." His brother looked down at the unconscious girl with concern. "She okay?"

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "Just fainted from the shock."

Dean nodded gravely. "Poor girl... first the Jersey Devil, then a Sasquatch..."

Sam took a deep breath. Now was not the time to beat Dean senseless. So, without a response, he picked the woman up and stepped through the open doorway. Looking around as he passed through the kitchen, he spotted the living room couch and set her down on it gently.

Dean followed after him at his own pace, looking around the place curiously before sobering into a more serious expression as his eyes landed on Sam. "Well, silver bullets don't work. I filled that fucker full of holes and it just kept moving."

Sam scrubbed a hand through his hair, his other one set on his hip, eyes falling from Dean and back to the woman. "I don't think we should try to track it anymore tonight. We'll wait until morning... look for possible nesting grounds in the direction it took off... besides, we can't just leave her here." Sam said, gesturing to the unconscious woman.

Dean seemed to agree, and tossed something rectangular at Sam. He caught it with ease, realizing it was their Dad's journal. "Start lookin' for anything we can use against that flyin' freak... I'm gonna go blow my nose."

Sam watched his brother return to the kitchen, the following sound of copious amounts of snot being expelled making him wince Trying to tune out the horrid sound, he flipped open their father's journal and started to scan the pages as he settled down on the sturdy wooden coffee table in front of the couch.

xXxXx

_Rachelle's POV_

Rachelle could feel herself waking up slowly to the sounds of muffled voices. As she became more aware, the fuzziness in her limbs grew. She felt like crap.

Her mind turned back to the voices, and she froze, opening her eyes. She was in her living room, lying on the couch. The blanket that usually sat on the back of it was thrown over her.

"_Dean_..." a voice from in the kitchen snapped audibly, making Rachelle go still, "...journal... _not_.... help... we.... out..."

Rachelle quickly pulled back the blanket and sat up, her heart pounding. Someone was in her house! She swayed where she was sitting and put a hand to her head. '_Calm down... just calm down... but what if they come out here?! No... no... get a hold of yourself... you can defend yourself.... you can... you're a karate teacher for heaven's sake... but there's at least two of them...'_

She fought to take steady, slow breaths as her mind raced to figure out what she should do. There were robbers... or something... men! In her house!

Rachelle stood up slowly, forcing herself to remain calm. Her eyes immediately alighted upon the iron fire poker resting in one of the prongs of the rack by the fireplace. She crouched low and grabbed it.

Staying low, she made her way to the kitchen doorway, the conversation clear now. She could feel her nerves buzzing under her skin, but she kept her breathing under control, fire poker clenched in her hands. Now if she could just look into the kitchen... see where they were positioned.... it sounded like one was by the door.

"The stories are all different, man, but most of them revolve around her having a misfigured demon baby for her thirteenth child. Some say she even wished it on herself." This voice was closer to the door.

There was a hoarse groan of disbelief from further in the kitchen. "Son of a bitch."

"Exactly."

Rachelle furrowed her brows. _What in the hell are they talking about? Great! Madman are raiding my house... talking about demons... they're probably going to use me as a ritual sacrifice!_

Gathering up her courage, she peeked around the doorway and was relieved and slightly more terrified to see the looming back of the brown haired stranger standing two feet away. She couldn't see the second man since the first was blocking her sight, but that was just as well. At least he wouldn't spot her head peering into the room.

Okay... so there was a really tall guy, and a shorter one, it seemed. She could do this. Tall guys fell harder. A good kick to the back of the knee would have him out of her way for a little bit... but what if the other one drew a gun before she reached him? Crap... she had no idea if they were armed or not.

Her eyes froze on the sliver of metal that shone from his waistband when the tall guy raised a hand to scratch at the back of his head. This was good! ...Sort of. If she could get the gun, she could force them out of the house. It definitely wasn't in her nature to use a gun... ever, but desperate times called for desperate measures. It would've been a different story with one man, but two in the position they were... she just didn't know if she'd be able to take them both down... especially since they had guns.

She could go out the front door... but it creaked like a rusty rocking chair... and this guy had legs like a gazelle. She'd be caught in no time.

She hadn't noticed they'd still been talking until warning bells went off in her head at one part of their conversation.

"Get back in there. I'm gonna call Bobby." The other guy said, and suddenly the decision was made for her.

Before the tall one could turn around, she darted halfway in the kitchen and flipped his jacket up quickly before grabbing at the handle of the gun and yanking it from the guy's waistband.

He spun around with a gasp, and took a step toward her, but she'd already fumbled the safety off and had the gun trained on him. "Stop!" She yelled, voice shaking along with her raised hand. She hurriedly tossed the fire poker behind her in order to steady the gun as much as she could.

The other guy popped into view from around the tall guy, his eyes wide. She turned the gun on him and he froze.

"Hey, just take it easy." Tall guy said. "My name's Sam, this is Dean. We saved you. You remember? You were attacked by that thing."

"What?" She nearly croaked, pointing from one to the other nervously. And then it hit her. Kitchen went dark. Out back. Gabe. The creature! "That... that was real?" She couldn't help but ask, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Yes. That was real." Sam had his hands held in front of him, trying not to look threatening. Dean, on the other hand, was eyeing her in a scary way, like he was daring her. 'Go ahead, pull that trigger and see what happens' his eyes screamed at her. He kept glancing from Sam to her, like he was trying to calculate the distance. His body was tensed up and he looked prepared to leap between them.

She hesitantly looked back to Sam and met his hazel stare. That's when she remembered looking into those same eyes as his voice assured her that she was safe now... and Dean... he'd shot that creature. "I passed out?" She asked with wide, worried eyes. "What... what was that thing?"

Sam relaxed a bit more. "You were just freaked out. I took you back in your house and put you on the couch. We wanted to make sure you'd be okay. That's why we stayed. And that creature... well, we don't exactly know what it is."

Rachelle stared at him critically. "Where'd it go?"

"Into the woods somewhere," Sam explained, "We're going to track it later though. We're going to kill it. That's what we do."

"What..." She took a breath. "What were you talking about just now? The lady with the... the demon baby."

Sam winced. "Uhm, well... see, we're kind of like... supernatural hunters. We look up odd stories in the newspaper and we check them out. We saw the stories about the animals being killed around here, and there was that legend about the Jersey Devil, so we came to investigate. We were tracking whatever thing these people keep seeing in the woods when we heard you scream."

Rachelle stayed quiet as she let his words come together in her head. She still wasn't feeling too hot after waking up, and the fatigue was dragging on her thoughts. She lowered the gun and both men let out sighs of relief.

Nervously, she put the safety back on and held the gun out to him with her right hand. She backed up to hide behind the doorframe after he slowly took it.

"Look. We won't harm you, okay?" Sam said softly as he ejected the clip and put it in his back pocket. Next he placed the gun on the kitchen table and motioned for Dean to do the same.

He complied edgily, setting his gun next to Sam's.

Rachelle swallowed, feeling more in control of the situation. If guns weren't involved, she'd stand more of a chance if this turned out to be a trick. She realized she was being paranoid, but images of the creature kept assaulting her and with each memory she grew more skeptical of its existence.

"I-I'm sorry." She managed more calmly. "I just... didn't know what to think. I wake up... disoriented... with two strangers in my house."

Sam nodded with understanding eyes. "It's okay. Don't worry about it. I'm just glad you're the ask questions first type." He said, offering a small smile.

Dean snorted and leaned against the kitchen counter tiredly.

Rachelle moved back into the kitchen, still maintaining a distance between them as she leaned near the door jam. "You saw it, too, right? If you're... supernatural hunters... is this the first time you've seen something like that?"

Sam pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down. "We've... we've kind of seen worse things than that."

Something told her she didn't want to hear this. She should just tell them to leave, and hopefully never see them again, but the fear was there now.

That if they left, it would come for her...

* * *

_TBC..._


	3. Chapter 3

xXxXx

**The Demon In Jersey**

_Chapter 3_

xXxXx

_Rachelle's POV_

Rachelle woke to the sound of growling. She froze under her covers and immediately quieted her breathing. The growl came again, and she relaxed. It was just Gabe.

"Geez, Gabe." She sighed out, still relishing in the relief that the "Jersey Devil" hadn't returned to finish her off. Her eyes shifted to the glowing digital alarm clock; 6:45am. _Not enough sleep_, she grumbled to herself. Of course, she hadn't gone off to bed until three in the morning. Then again, how could anyone just go to sleep after the night she'd had? Especially after figuring out that ghosts were real, as well as vampires and werewolves, though those apparently were a more extinct brand of monsters thanks to hunters.

There was a sneeze from down in the kitchen. Gabe growled a few seconds after.

She smiled and crawled from bed to peer underneath the spring box. Glowing eyes looked back at her curiously. "You sure are a tough guy, huh?"

Gabe meowed indignantly in the face of her sarcasm.

Shaking her head, she dropped the bed skirt and stood up to get dressed. She was so glad Gabe was okay. She'd checked him over last night before she'd went to bed. Not a scratch on him, thankfully. She doubted he'd be coming out from under the bed for a while though.

The guys that had saved her were still here, as crazy as the concept was. She'd been too shell-shocked by everything last night to really question whether going to sleep with strangers in the house was a good idea or not. They'd truly seemed like a pair of well-meaning guys though... and she couldn't help but trust them. Sam especially had a likeable quality about him, one that just forced you to find him charming and completely harmless even as tall as he was.

And Dean, well, he was a whole other story. When she looked at him she saw a complex web of things she doubted she'd ever have time to figure out, but one thing seemed to stand out the most. Softness. It was such a strange word to pin him with since he'd been mostly silent and stoicly solid earlier in the night, but there was a smoothness Sam instilled in him when they interacted.

She knew it was a familiarity only family could really bring out in a person. And since she'd found out they were brothers, it made perfect sense. She didn't know how they were raised, but they mentioned their father once or twice in front of her, mostly about a journal. She grasped that he was still alive, and had been the one to teach them what they knew. After talking to them for a while, she was pretty sure something had happened to their mother. Something that started the family business of hunting unnatural things. She wasn't a person to pry, though, and only let facts about their lives be given to her as they saw fit.

Rachelle sighed tiredly as she zipped up a brown fleece vest over a cream-colored long sleeved shirt. She'd already shimmied on a pair of her favorite jeans, and after having a quick look in the mirror to pull her long blonde hair into a ponytail, she made her way downstairs and into the kitchen.

Dean sat hunched over an array of open books, while Sam was passed out over his own. The older brother acknowledged her with a nod as she stepped foot into the room, and they shared a brief smile over Sam's state.

"Coffee?" She murmured quietly, already sliding the coffee maker lid over to put a fresh filter full of grounds in.

"Oh god, yes." He muttered back, passing a hand roughly over his face.

"Did you get any sleep at all?" She couldn't help but ask, looking at him worriedly.

The smile he flashed to her made her knees feel weak. Given the chance, Dean was certainly the more charming of the pair. "It's fine. I'll sleep long and hard when this job is over."

Now that she had a better angle on Sam's position, she noticed something she hadn't when she'd first stepped into the kitchen. The pointer finger of the hand resting near his turned face was propped in one of his nostrils.

At her snuffle of amusement, Dean looked up and then to Sam before grinning deviously. "He's one of those sleep nose pickers." He supplied in a tone one would use when talking of a hopeless person.

"I'm sure." She snickered, feeling adoration for such a normal behavior between two men with a whole different and rather terrifying world resting on their shoulders.

"So have you found out anything useful?" She asked tentatively, leaning against the counter.

Dean flipped a page in the book before him, and went about scanning it. "Not really... this is turning out to be a real headache." He grumbled in a spaced-out voice. She figured he was probably pretty good at reading and holding a conversation at the same time.

"Well...uhm...if we think about it... it can fly...so guns are a must, right?" Rachelle questioned uncomfortably as she crossed her arms in front of her. She didn't want to butt into his business since Dean had been doing this all his life, but she really wanted to help.

Dean spared her a quizzical, but unbothered glance. He seemed more curious than anything. "Guns would be preferred."

She nodded and gazed down at her feet in thought. "Ok, so if this thing came from something like witchy black magic... or demonic powers, however you put it...maybe you could just use something purely good as a weapon."

Rachelle shifted doubtful eyes to the older man, but he seemed to be honestly interested in what she had to say, so she went on. "And since you have to use guns to get at the thing, maybe you could do something to the bullets. Dip them in holy water, or consecrate the rounds? Does that even work?"

Dean's brows rose, and his lips pushed out in an expression that clearly said 'I'm really likin' your idea.' "Damn... I'm kind of pissed at myself for not thinkin' of that in the first place."

Rachelle couldn't help her proud grin. "Really?"

"Hell yeah." He scratched at the growing stubble along his jaw. "Makes sense. There's nothing here about Jersey Devils... or... dog, dinosaur, bat things... sooo, consecrated rounds are a go. And we'll soak 'em in holy water just to be-" He broke off into a startling sneeze.

Sam's body flinched on the table before a disgruntled sounding "_shit_" escaped his lips. He then sniffled and removed his finger from his nostril to scratch his nose hastily before going still again.

"Adorable, ain't he?" Dean said, tossing her a grin as she giggled behind her hand. He sounded more congested now, but if she thought back to their previous conversations, what she thought was just exhaustion in his voice, now sounded a whole lot like sickness.

"I have some medicine for that, you know, if you'd like? You sound kind of stopped up." Rachelle offered, again feeling uncertain about her words.

"Got any Sudafed? And Tylenol. I got a bitch of a headache comin' on." He said, seemingly resigned to his condition.

"Sure." Rachelle said with a tiny grin before rooting around in the smaller corner cabinet she'd deemed her medicine cabinet. She brought out the required boxes and tapped out one more than perscribed for each since she figured a guy his size needed the extra oomph.

She went over to the coffee and started pouring him a cup. "How do you like your coffee?"

"Black, thanks." He said, smiling gratefully when she handed him his cup and pills. And wow, if he didn't have the hottest smile she'd seen in a long time. Any more of those directed at her and she'd be melting on the spot.

"_Coffee_..." Sam grunted suddenly in a rather good impression of a zombie calling for brains.

Rachelle smiled and turned to grab two more cups as Dean spoke.

"Figured out how to kill that sucker thanks to Rachelle."

"Yeah?" Sam yawned out, stretching in his chair.

"Consecrated rounds."

"Huh... why didn't we think of that?"

"S'what I said."

Rachelle grinned, blushly lightly as she carried over two more cups of coffee. "We still don't even know if it'll work, though, right?"

"It's the best bet we got." Dean sighed out.

Sam nodded, thanking Rachelle when she handed him milk and sugar. "Worse comes to worse, we can just shoot the crap out of it, retreat, and try to find something else."

"We're gonna need more bullets."

xXxXx

_Rachelle's POV_

Rachelle stepped out of her gray Toyota Corolla and made her way up the gravel path to the 97' Chevy Impala parked further in her driveway beside the house. She'd given the boys a ride out to their car so they could wrangle up the ammo they needed. The sun was now on the cusp of fully escaping the horizon, filling the sky with soft pinks and oranges. It was slightly odd that the birds weren't singing like usual, but she could only guess they'd decided to take the morning, or perhaps the day, off.

She walked up just as Sam stuck a small, square plastic bottle into the inside pocket of his brown jacket. Dean was next to him at their open trunk, packing assorted bits of artillery into the duffle bag hanging from the strap in his hand.

"Wow... I hate to state the obvious, but you guys have _a lot _of weapons." She said as she leaned in a bit to get a better look at their assortment of hardware.

Dean grinned over at her like the statement was a compliment. "Comes with the territory." The grin wavered from his face the next second and he started to tilt sideways, but Sam was quick and caught him around his upper arms to steady him. Dean shrugged him off irritably. "Hands off, dude! Just got a bit unbalanced." He grumbled, jiggling the duffle bag like it was obviously to blame.

Sam didn't say anything, just frowned and shared a worried look with Rachelle.

"You finish grabbin' the rest, I'm gonna head inside and start settin' up." Dean muttered before moving away towards the back of the house.

Sam sighed and shook his head. "He's like a damn mule."

Rachelle smiled sympathetically. "I think it's a big brother thing."

"You too?" Sam chuckled.

She barely managed to huff out a laugh before it died in her throat. Something had burst from the nearby tree line, and as webbed wings stretched across the waking sky, horrified recognition shot through her. The Jersey Devil! And it was flying straight towards them. _No!_ Towards _Dean! _

Sam had already spotted the creature without being told and was yelling to his older brother before she could turn her head. "Dean!"

Dean was now at the corner of the house, and despite Sam's volume, didn't turn at all.

Rachelle looked on with dread as Sam tore off towards Dean, but she could see he wouldn't make it in time. The mutated monster was incredibly fast. It had to have covered over one hundred meters in a mere ten seconds.

"DEAN!" Sam screamed.

Dean flinched and turned on a heel, looking pissed. "What?!"

Stunned surprise registered in his eyes as he saw the Jersey Devil swooping towards him. He was reaching around before his expression even had time to change, and he'd almost got his gun all the way out of his waistband before the thing collided into him.

Rachelle felt the cry that wanted to come out, but instead uttered a small squeak as Dean's only chance at self-defense was jolted out of his hands and tossed onto the ground. The creature let out a piercing shriek as it clutched him around the shoulders with its front paws and heaved them both back into the air.

"_Ahhh_! What the _fuck_!" Dean hollered, feet kicking back and forth futilely.

Sam was sprinting across the ground below, and only slowed the slightest to snatch Dean's fallen gun from the ground.

Before Rachelle could think, she felt herself moving as she dashed after Sam. His long legs were eating up the dirt expanse as he raced to catch up with his airborne sibling. She saw him raise his arm, gun aimed but even she could tell that the shockingly unhindered speed of the creature and Dean's flailing made him rethink the situation and lower the firearm.

"_Put me down, you sonuvabitch!!_"

Rachelle's heart was pounding wildly in her chest, and it only beat harder when Dean disappeared from sight as she entered the forest after Sam. Dean could still be heard bellowing in the distance, every other word followed by a curse.

She could hardly see Sam as he zig-zagged through the trees, but she could tell he was doing something with the gun and the plastic bottle from before. His voice was shaky and rough, but she was able to hear him as he spoke to himself. For a second, she thought something was wrong with her ears until she realized he was speaking Latin.

"Sam!" She cried breathlessly, pushing her legs to go faster when she noticed something with abrupt terror. "Dean! I can't hear him anymore!"

"Go back!" He hollered over his shoulder, still hopping brush and dodging tree trunks.

Rachelle would've scowled if she wasn't currently using her mouth to gulp in air. No way in _Hell_ was she going back! _No way_! Dean could_ die_, and Sam was telling her to go _back_ and idly wait while there was every possibility that Dean was being _mauled_?!

She chose to act like she hadn't heard him and kept following him through the winding pines, listening intently for any sound from Dean.

Sam came to a halt a good ways in front of her, breathing heavy and muttering angrily. She fumbled to a stop behind him just in time to catch the last of his words.

"Fuck! _Fuck! _I can't believe I let this happen! I knew better than to go out without my gun! If-If I'd had it, I would've been able to stop it!"

Panting, she crossed her arms over her stomach, wincing at the stitch in her side. "It's not - your fault, Sam."

"You shouldn't have come out here, Rachelle! You could get hurt, or _worse_!" Sam scolded her, expression pained.

"We'll find him, Sam, we'll find him." She gasped out, clearly sensing the panic radiating from every inch of the tall hunter because she felt it so acutely within herself.

"_Shit_." He growled brokenly, left hand raking through his hair and pulling at the long locks harshly. "He doesn't even have a gun!"

Frustrated, she took a few deep breaths before screaming "DEAAAN!!" at the top of her lungs.

There was a ringing silence that followed the breaking echo of her cry, and she was about to scream again when a voice broke through the near suffocating quiet.

"...chelle!" Came the far-off shout. "Saaamm!"

Rachelle and Sam were already moving by the first syllable out of Dean's mouth. Foliage was being stripped from its perch, thin branches breaking off without heed as they rushed through the dense forest to get to the older hunter.

"Dean!! Keep calling!" Sam hollered as he ran.

Thankfully, Dean kept up the noise, even having the audacity to tell them to "hurry the fuck up!"

It was taking all of Rachelle's focus and willpower to keep up with the speed she was going. Sam was much faster than her thanks to his length and also ran around after crazy shit for a living, so it was no wonder that he was tearing along yards ahead of her.

Fresh fear pumped through her veins when Sam came to a sudden stop ahead, his gaze directed upwards in awe.

"What! What - is it?" She cried weakly, almost tripping over a dead tree branch.

"What the hell happened?!" Sam yelled up into the air. Rachelle had a bad feeling about this.

"That fucker dropped me here! Just let me go in midair!" Dean roared in anger. A cascade of pine needles fell to the ground just as Rachelle arrived at Sam's side.

She looked up and shrieked. "Oh my god!"

"I feel like a freakin' koala!" Dean growled, arms and legs wrapped around one of the thick, curvy branches of a pitch pine. He was clinging to it upside down, and by the way the side of his face was mashed into the bark, it was obvious he was holding on for dear life. "Don't just stand there, damn it! Get me down!"

Sam gaped helplessly at Dean, and Rachelle was right there with him. Dean had to be at least forty or more feet up.

"The branches are pretty well-spaced! You could climb-" Sam began.

"No way!" Dean hollered. "Screw that!"

"I don't see another way, Dean! I'm not leaving you and Rachelle here, and I'm definitely not letting her go for help by herself! That thing is still out there!"

As soon as the words had left Sam's mouth, there was a resounding snap of a branch breaking from behind them. Sam instantly spun and leveled his gun upwards, but what he didn't expect was for the creature to come charging at them from the ground, its horse-like hind legs powering forward.

Rachelle let out a cry of surprise when Sam pushed her roughly, sending her toppling to the forest floor. She curled in on herself when she felt the ground vibrate beside her with the weight of the creature passing.

Sam let out a grunt of pain before the sound of his body hitting the earth sent another spike of fear flowing through her_. It's amazing I haven't died of fright!_ She thought almost hysterically as she raised her head to see the Jersey Devil bearing down on Sam.

_"Sam!!" _Dean yelled from up in the tree, the creature's screeching almost drowning him out.

_Oh god, oh god, what do I do? What do I do?! _Thoughts whirled around in her head, made disjointed by her frantic emotions. It took all of her effort to force herself into a standing position, every bit of her shaking.

Sam was wrestling with the creature on his back, the huge beast standing over him with a large stick jammed across its mouth. It was quickly chewing through the bark while its claws were raking up Sam's arms, causing him to shout in pain as the material of his jacket was shed away to reveal tender flesh.

"_Sam!!_ SAM! _NO!_" Dean was screaming, branches cracking and creeking overhead while pine needles showered the area around the scuffle.

Rachelle momentarily darted her eyes up to catch Dean frantically trying to grab onto a branch beside the one he was crouched on. He'd actually managed to get a few feet down in his haste to get to his brother.

She felt rage bubble up in her when she took in Dean's desperate struggle, and pushing her fear away, she reached down and grabbed a pinecone. Pulling her arm back, she aimed the best she could and let the organic projectile fly just as the branch between the beast's teeth shattered. It was pretty satisfying when the pinecone cracked off the Jersey Devil's skull, but her pride was short-lived as it swiveled its massive head around, bulbous eyes landing on her. The shriek it let loose was so high it felt like her head was going to split.

It straightened up and was on its way to move toward her, but Sam braced his bleeding arms against the ground and kicked out with one foot, catching the creature right in its jaw.

The Jersey Devil stumbled back one step before howling deeply, the sound similar to a fog horn. Sam had nothing to protect himself with this time, so when the beast loomed over him, it was with an open mouth that was ready to take a fatal chunk out of him.

Rachelle clapped her hands over her mouth in horror, eyes wide as Dean suddenly dropped down onto the creature's back. He had a small knife in his hand and was stabbing at the creature's neck repeatedly.

"Yeah! You like that, you fugly piece of shit?!" He shouted in its oddly rounded ears which went flat against its head while its body staggered away from Sam, shaking from side to side in hopes of dislodging its human carry on.

"Dean!" Sam called weakly, bloody arms held closely to the front of his dirt covered jacket.

Dean continued stabbing the beast until it suddenly hooked one clawed paw into the right shoulder of his jacket and pulled him up and over its head to land roughly on the ground in front of it. A startled cough left him as he landed flat on his back, the air obviously knocked from his lungs. By instinct, he rolled onto his side and began to curl up, gasping for breath.

"Rachelle!" Sam cried out, causing her to snap fearful eyes to him. He was looking at her pleadingly as he jerked his head forward, gesturing across the small expanse of ground to the gleaming gun that lay half covered in pine needles.

She immediately dashed for it, and had it in her trembling hands within seconds.

_"Ahhhhhhhh!!!"_ Dean's pained scream filled the air as the Jersey Devil bit into his shoulder.

_"NO!" _Rachelle and Sam both yelled before gunshots cracked into life. One after another sounded as Rachelle squeezed the trigger over and over again.

The Jersey Devil let go of Dean's shoulder and reared up, trying to screech, but no sound came out. Instead, blackish blood startled to bubble and hiss from its wounds, smoke curling up from the oozing liquid.

Rachelle kept her finger on the trigger, barely able to hear herself whimper over the report of the gun. Her teeth were clenched tightly together, feet shuffling ahead for every step the Jersey Devil took back. Aiming up, she sent two bullets straight into its skull, and managed another one right through an eye when the gun finally ran out of ammo.

The beast swayed precariously for a few long moments before it flopped to the ground with a throaty sigh. The only noise that filled the air was the sound of the creature's still sizzling blood.

Rachelle kept the gun clutched in her hands as she dropped to her knees, tears leaking from her eyes. Her breath came in quick, shallow gasps before soft, hitching sobs started to mix with them. It was over... it was dead. It was _over._

"Rachelle..." Sam's voice murmured to her gently. "It's okay..."

She sniffed shakily and turned her head to him. He was kneeling beside her, arms still pressed to his stomach. He looked at her with kindness and sorrow intertwined in his hazel eyes.

"Are you..." The last word got stuck in her throat, so she had to try again. "Are you okay?"

He smiled softly. "I'll live."

"D..Dean?" She stuttered.

Sam understood, of course, and shuffled over a bit to reveal Dean sitting up a couple of yards away. He was clutching his bleeding shoulder with a pained expression, but looked up to regard them. "Almost... almost crunched right through my collarbone." He huffed out in exasperation.

"Yeah, well, at least you don't have spaghetti arms." Sam shot back with a pinched smirk. He was starting to look pale, and Rachelle knew with time, Dean wouldn't be any better off. It was those facts that got her back on her feet.

She had to get them back to the house, had to patch them up, then she could freak out. But not now.

Not now.

* * *

_TBC..._


	4. Chapter 4

xXxXx

**The Demon In Jersey**

_Chapter 4_

xXxXx

_Sam's POV_

Sam groaned and slowly opened his eyes. "Rachelle?" He murmured weakly, looking around the dimly lit living room. He shifted and winced as a stitched part of his right arm rubbed against his body. Bandages or not, the claw wounds were still tender as hell, and where he liked to sleep on his side, he now had to sleep on his back. The vicodin from the first aid kit kept most of the pain at bay, but it still hurt just to turn his wrist or bend his elbow.

He sat up with a long-suffering inhale. His arms hadn't been the only thing messed up in the scuffle with the Jersey Devil; his back was sore from the behemoth batting him to the ground like a ragdoll. The pain was a lot more tolerable this morning, but that was mostly because he'd kept the muscles from getting too stiff. He had a lot of practice when it came to various types of injuries; he and his brother.

_Dean... _he thought with concern, the desire to see his older brother fueling the effort it took to get up from the couch.

Sam staggered over to the stairs and took them a step at a time. It never ceased to amuse him how often their job description made them into old men. It took a few minutes and he felt winded by the time he reached the top step, but he was just glad he'd managed to keep from jostling his arms against the wall.

He came to stand by the open doorway of Rachelle's room, and the sight that greeted his eyes made him smile so hard it hurt. Man, if only he wasn't injured! He'd go back downstairs and get his camera phone.

Gabe, Rachelle's cat, was snuggled against the curve of Dean's neck, but his eyes were open and watching Sam curiously and not without suspicion. His smile softened as his eyes trailed to Rachelle. She was leaning forward from the chair beside her bed, arms crossed atop the comforter acting as a pillow for her head. Since Dean was positioned in the middle of the bed, she had room, but it still looked incredibly uncomfortable.

A swiftly-earned fondness spread through him as he thought of all the help Rachelle had been to them.

When they'd managed to drag themselves back to her house after the fight with the Jersey Devil, she'd quickly set about following whatever directions they gave her, and though it was clear the sight of their injuries made her queasy, she'd still helped clean the wounds. Dean had stitched the chest-side of his teeth gouges while Rachelle disinfected Sam's arms. When his brother was done, Rachelle had helped him with a makeshift bandage and then Dean had set to stitching up the worst of Sam's claw wounds. He was lucky the more tender side of his arms hadn't been in a position for the Jersey Devil to tear at or he would have been in much worse shape.

After getting wrapped up, Sam had then stitched the back-side of Dean's wounds, and by the time he was done, they were both starting to feel the vicodin and exhaustion dragging them into unconsciousness. Despite Sam's weak protests, Rachelle had insisted on taking Dean up to her room herself. Dean's silence on the whole matter just showed how completely worn out he was. His head had been lolling, eyes at half-mast, and any questions from he or Rachelle were answered in grunt form.

He doesn't remember the next part very well because he'd ended up passing out in the kitchen chair, arms gingerly positioned in his lap while his head had rested on the kitchen table. Rachelle had woken him up after putting Dean to bed, and it had taken mighty effort from them both to get him over to the living room couch. It was a decent size, fit for at least four people sitting side by side, but the ends of his feet still hung off, so he'd ended up falling asleep on his back with his legs tucked up.

It was dark outside the window when he'd woken back up, and a groggy glance at the wall clock showed he'd been asleep for over ten hours. Something shifted on the adjacent one-seater, and when he'd craned his head, Rachelle had been sleeping on it, curled into a ball with a thick quilt wrapped around her.

That was when the wretching had started from upstairs. Still too zonked and completely wiped out from poor sleep and blood loss, he'd been unable to get himself up. "Ra..Rachelle." He'd sputtered weakly. "Rachelle!"

He'd felt bad when she'd woken up with a sharp gasp, eyes darting around wildly until she'd rested her gaze on Sam and relaxed with a deep exhale. "Sam...what-" A yawn had cut her off. "What's wrong?"

"Dean," Sam had wheezed out. "I think he's sick."

She'd sat up in alarm then and pulled the blanket off herself. "Stay there, okay? I'll go check on him." And she'd said it so motherly-stern that he'd listened, but had still refused to let himself go back to sleep until she'd returned a while later.

He thinks he remembers her giving him an exasperated smile when she'd seen he was still awake. "He threw up quite a bit, but you gotta give him credit. He made it to the toilet." She'd said with a wry smile. "Poor guy, I think that cold finally hit him. It might be the flu. He's back in bed now though. I got him to drink some water before he passed out again."

She'd crouched near him then and patted his shoulder. "Go to sleep, Sam. I promise I'll take good care of him."

And amazingly enough, he'd gone back to sleep.

The next time he'd woken up, it'd been in the early afternoon of the next day. Rachelle had been in the kitchen making a sandwich when he'd stumbled in and tentatively eased into a chair. He'd smiled gratefully when she'd made him one and even cut it into four pieces so he'd been able to pick each piece up with minimal effort and pop it into his mouth.

She'd proceeded to give him an update on Dean. His brother hadn't thrown up anymore, but he had a steady fever and a bit of a cough. She'd assured him she'd given Dean all the medicine she could and was watching after him carefully. The only thing that'd help him was sleep.

Being who he was though, Sam had gone upstairs and fussed with Dean for a while. Dean had responded in his usual get-out-of-my-face attitude. Of course, he had only been awake minutes at a time throughout the day.

And now, as Sam stood in the doorway and listened, he could tell Dean's breathing was a bit better. Not so congested.

Rachelle shifted lightly after a few more minutes and raised her head to blearily regard Sam. "Hey." She said in a sleep-heavy voice. "What timesit?"

Sam smiled warmly. "A little after seven AM."

She rubbed at her eyes and took a deep breath before pausing with surprise. "Is that my cat?"

Sam looked over to Gabe, who was now directing his curious stare to Rachelle. "Yep... guess he likes my brother. For some reason beyond me." He said jokingly.

Rachelle smiled and reached her arms over her head. "It's certainly news to me. I figured he'd still be hiding under the bed. I'm glad he's out though. I was worried about him."

Gabe shifted his attention between them and like he knew they were talking about him, got up and stretched languidly, an extended back leg kicking Dean in the side of his head in the process.

"_Uhn_." Dean grunted, hand coming up to swat haphazaredly at the area near his face.

Gabe looked thoroughly disgruntled and dodged the hand to go back under the bed.

Rachelle and Sam both snickered quietly.

"I feel like I'm bein' watched." Dean mumbled thickly a few seconds later, his eyes staying closed.

"You are." Sam replied with a grin. "We're making fun of you in your sick bed."

Dean lifted a hand to flip Sam off. Sam was simply impressed he managed to point the rude gesture in the correct direction. At least his hearing was doing fine.

"I'm starvin'." Dean murmured, looking like he was about to attempt to get up, but Rachelle stood and pressed on his uninjured shoulder.

"I'll go make some chicken soup, Tarzan. Save your strength." She chided good-naturedly before leaving the room, a friendly smile directed to Sam as she passed him.

Sam returned the smile before making his way over to the chair by his brother and sitting down. "So... Tarzan. That's a good one. I'll have to remember that."

"I'll strangle you in your sleep." Dean replied. "A guy can't jump from a tree these days without being referenced to a freakin' Disney movie?"

"Not when they jump from a tree like you did." Sam said in good humor, but even he could hear the disapproval undertoning the words. He hadn't even meant for it to sound that way, but he realized this happened a lot when it came to Dean.

"Yeah, well..." Dean murmured, and Sam could hear all the things Dean wanted to say compacted into those two words. _Yeah, well, my little brother was about to be breakfast. Yeah, well, I'd jump off a cliff if it'd save you_.

Sam nodded, and didn't say anything further, just let the comfortable we're-alive-and-together silence wash over them. The only things missing to complete the moment were the Impala, open road, and some mullet rock.

"Rachelle's nice." Dean suddenly said, like he was talking about the weather.

Sam grinned and eyed his brother speculatively. "Yeah, she is."

"I mean. I wish I hadn't barfed in front of her... or just been sick in general. I feel pretty lame." Dean said in a truly downtrodden manner, like looking good in front of chicks was a dire priority.

"Ah, shut up." Sam laughed softly. "You love her babying you."

"Better than your gigantic ass." Dean jabbed moodily.

Sam took it for the grain of sand it was worth and lifted a foot to kick Dean's hip in retaliation.

xXxXx

_Rachelle's POV_

Rachelle stared down into the medium-sized sauce pan as her right hand absently stirred the chicken soup around and around. Everytime things slowed down for even a minute, the memories of two days ago came back in non-sequential flashes. Dean being dragged into the air. The Jersey Devil's startling first appearance. Sam cursing in despair. Dean dropping from the tree.

So much had happened in such a short time. After that horrible morning, she'd made sure Sam and Dean were well-bandaged and asleep, then she'd grabbed a blanket and passed out on the recliner next to the sofa Sam was dead asleep on.

Waking up from a deep sleep to Sam's urgent voice hadn't done much to soothe her already frazzled state, but she'd handled it well enough. Seeing Dean collapsed over the toilet had brought out maternal instincts that pushed her still-recovering nerves to the side.

_( Flashback )_

"S'mmy?" Dean slurred, feverish eyes looking at her but not seeing her when she crouched down beside him.

"Sam's asleep, Dean. Let's get you up and back in bed." She said softly before taking one of his arms.

"Wait." Dean rasped in a voice that sounded a lot like a scared child. "Not...not d'ne."

Rachelle backed off a bit, but kept a hand between his shoulders, rubbing gently when he started wretching again. Small tremors were racking his body by the time he stopped heaving. She carefully got up and wet a rag, then wrung it out and folded it before pressing it to his forehead.

Dean sighed softly, eyes closed and pillowed on his arms resting at the edge of the toilet bowl. His breathing was rough, like his lungs were clogged, so Rachelle moved away to grab some cold pills and tylenol from her purse on the dresser. They were in travel-sized bottles, just in case she needed them when she was out and about. She preferred to be prepared, and now she felt thankful for that since she didn't have to go all the way downstairs to get them.

Reentering the bathroom, she grabbed a little disposable paper cup from the mini-dispenser by the sink and filled it with sink water. Kneeling near Dean again, she nudged him in the arm. "Come on, Dean. You need to take these to feel better, okay?"

He groaned in response and lifted his head, then raised a shaking hand and took the pills. He chucked them into his mouth, nearly missing, then grabbed the paper cup. She saw the water start to spill over the sides and put her hand out to his to help, but he batted her away weakly with his other. "I c'n do it, Sam."

Rachelle couldn't help but smile wryly at his mistake, warmth spreading through her heart. At least this was proof that the brothers looked after each other when they didn't feel good. Proof that they weren't in this alone, because they were together and they cared like brothers should.

She took the cup from him when he was done and set it on the counter, then got up to mix some mouth wash and water together in it.

"Ready to get up now?" She whispered, a hand on his arm.

"_Ngh_.." Dean replied, eyes fluttering open, then closing again.

Rachelle shook her head with a small smile and looped his arm over her shoulder, careful to avoid the wound on his other shoulder. She stood him up and he did a decent job of helping so she was only supporting a bit of his weight. "Here. This has mouth wash in it. Spit it back out after you swish it around. So your mouth doesn't taste like roadkill when you wake up." She told him quietly with amusement.

He didn't say anything, just sluggishly tilted the cup back and then spat into the sink a moment later, her arm around his waist helping him bend over the basin without toppling into it. She could feel tight muscle shifting through the shirt under her arm, and it took all her strength not to roll her eyes at her less than innocent thoughts. He was sick for heaven's sake!

Sighing, she focused on the task of getting him back into bed.

Once he was curled up on his side, she pulled the blanket over him and made sure he was snug. Then she grabbed the little reading chair by the window and set it near him.

She was hesitant at first, but she let her hand reach out and card through his short hair.

Dean sniffled and turned his head into the touch. ".._miss you, mom_..." He whispered so quiet she almost didn't hear him.

Her hand stilled for a second before continuing its gentle slide through his hair as tears slipped down her cheeks. Too many emotions rose up in her at once and she had to take her hand away to muffle her strangled sobs.

_( End Flashback. )_

Rachelle swallowed thickly as she remembered the moment. She'd cried all the way into the bathroom where she'd cleaned up a bit. Cried in the shower. Cried as she got dressed, and cried some more when she sat back down beside Dean's slumbering form.

After gathering herself a bit, she went downstairs to check on Sam. It surprised her when she saw his eyes were half open, even though the lids wavered determinedly. She'd assured him everything was okay, that she'd make sure it would stay that way. It was gradual, but the tenseness in his shoulders eased and his eyes closed all the way, breathing evening out shortly after.

She'd gone upstairs a bit later and managed to get a few hours of sleep slumped in the reading chair before she woke up to Dean coughing. Another dose of medicine and a cool cloth on his forehead settled him down and had him snoring softly.

It belatedly occured to her as she turned the burner off that she had classes today. It surprised her how much she didn't care right then, but she knew she'd have to go back at least the day after tomorrow. Back to life before the Jersey Devil and The Winchesters had dropped in. She could do that. She could.

Rachelle took a deep breath and didn't give it anymore thought as she poured the soup into a bowl. Grabbing a bigger plate, she set the bowl on it to act as a tray since she didn't actually have one, then she tucked a bottle of water under her arm, dropped a spoon on the plate, and made her way upstairs again.

She could hear the shower running when she got closer to the room, and knew it was Sam, since neither of them was crazy enough to let Dean try to stand, especially not in a cushionless tub.

Dean was propped up on an extra pillow when she entered the room, his hand pushing into the neck of his shirt to mess with the bandage on his shoulder. He looked utterly worn out still, and his lack of alertness was a testament to that. He didn't notice her until she set the plate on the night stand beside him. His eyes widened a bit, but he didn't jump.

"Hey... that smells good." He mumbled, sniffing stuffily. "I think."

Rachelle couldn't help the laugh that popped from her mouth. "Thanks, I guess? It's canned, but the good kind."

Dean smiled at her thankfully, and she grinned back bashfully before placing a pillow in his lap for height and setting the soup on top of it.

He carefully took a few bites and hummed. "Really good."

She gestured to the water on the night stand as well. "Extra liquids, if you like."

He nodded, suddenly looking almost shy, which was very uncharacteristic of him, but after last night, she figured there were parts of himself he liked to keep carefully hidden. "I'm sorry for all this... you know... just... all of it."

Rachelle smiled gently and sat down. "You guys saved my life. I can see my family and my friends again because of you two...." She told him with conviction. "I owe you so much."

Dean shifted a bit, looking uncomfortable, but he threw a smile to her. "You saved us back. So that cancels our debts out."

Rachelle huffed a laugh and shook her head. "Wouldn't have been able to do that if I was dead, so, ha, I win."

Dean fixed his eyes on her in surprise before chuckling quietly. "You're somethin' else, Rachelle." He said in humor, but she could hear the seriousness on the edge of his words. "You didn't have to help my brother and I, but you did..." He nodded slowly. "You can't say that about a lot of people." He looked up then and met her eyes. She could see the gratefulness there... spread out like an ocean.

Then the bathroom door opened down the hallway and Sam ambled into the room in a hoodie and worn jeans, towel resting over his hair. "One of the most difficult showers I've ever had." He said on a grin, before pausing in the doorway, eyes shifting between the two of them.

Rachelle figured she was the one that gave the previous atmosphere away as she fiddled with her thumbs where she sat, while Dean went back to casually eating his soup.

Sam didn't say anything though, so she stood up. "You want to rewrap your arms?" She asked, gesturing to the gauze riddled with wet spots. He'd done a pretty good job not getting them soaked, but still, it couldn't be comfortable.

"Sure." He replied with a smile, and followed her down the stairs.

xXxXx

_Sam's POV_

It was the next morning that Sam and Dean insisted they had to leave. Dean's fever had broken, but he was still plagued by a runny nose and periodic sneezing.

Rachelle sighed as she stood next to Sam, both of them watching Dean repack the last of their stuff into the trunk of the Impala. Dean had stubbornly demanded that Sam back off and let him do it since he didn't want Sam to pull any stitches. Sam had begrudgingly conceded, mostly because he didn't really want to pull his stitches either. His arms had formed scabs and become incredibly itchy. He wasn't about to impede the healing process.

"You really can't stay one more day?" Rachelle asked quietly.

Sam looked over at her ruefully. "We would, but Dean and I... we got serious stuff we can't put on hold anymore." _Like finding our Dad... _"It's important we get back on the road." He smiled fondly. "I promise I'll keep an eye on him and make sure he gets better."

Rachelle nodded, looking resigned. "Watch out for yourself, too, okay?"

Sam grinned at her and opened his mouth to speak, but Dean closed the trunk with a dull thunk and started making his way over. "We're all set."

Sam took a deep breath and let it out. "Guess this is it."

Rachelle smiled sadly, and nodded once more. "Guess so."

Sam pursed his lips and moved forward to hug her, but it ended up sort of awkward since he tried to keep his arms straight, and essentially ended up hugging her with just his upper arms. They both burst out in laughter as they stepped apart.

Dean was simply watching the exchange with an easy grin, his hand shoved into the pockets of his jacket.

Sam watched as Rachelle turned nervously to his brother next, who shifted his feet and rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks, you know... for everything." He said, staring at the ground.

Rachelle smiled widely and walked over to pull him into a big hug. He looked surprised, but pleased and hugged her back, looking at Sam sheepishly over her shoulder.

Sam just smiled, and watched as they stepped apart.

"You take care of yourself, Dean."

"You, too." He replied, before his brows popped up. "Oh, and..." He pulled one of their contact cards from the wallet in his back pocket and handed it to her. "If you ever run into anything strange again, give us a call."

Rachelle took the card with a grateful smile. "Thank you."

And then they shared a look Sam didn't understand, but figured was something just between them.

"Come on, Sam." Dean murmured after and turned to head back to the car.

Sam moved after him, his own grateful smile directed at Rachelle as he passed her. He could feel that sharp plucking at his chest that told him he'd miss her. Both of them would miss her, he knew.

Dean was resolutely looking out the windshield when Sam folded into the passenger seat and closed his door. The car started with a low, rumbling purr a second later and began rolling forward. Sam stayed quiet as they turned out of the driveway, and it took all his strength not to look back. If there was one thing he'd learned, it was that looking back made it that much harder.

"I could go for some pie." Dean said out of the blue.

Sam leaned back in his seat, taking in the morning sky dotted with cotton-fluffy clouds. "Me too."

* * *

_The End._

**A/N: **Yay! Was it as fun for you as it was for me? I hope so! I had so much fun with this fic that I wrote a sequel for Enkidu07. I love writing for her character. Onward, to the sequel!


	5. Sequel

**Summary: **_Sam and Dean run into some trouble, Sam calls an old friend for help. _More Hurt!Dean, Motherhen!Sam. And, of course, Lovely!Rachelle. Set in Season 2, a bit after episode 4: CSPWDT, I guess.

xXxXx

**The Demon In Jersey**

_Sequel_

xXxXx

_Rachelle's POV_

Rachelle let out a heavy sigh as she made her way down the hallway of the townhouse she shared with her best friend. Said best friend was currently hours away at her folks' place for Thanksgiving. The holiday was still a whole day away, but they had a tradition of baking all the sweets and such the day before since the arrival of relatives on the actual day tended to make things hectic and baking became a hassle.

She felt utterly and completely alone. Her own family only lived downtown so the commute was reasonable enough that she didn't have to stay the night. She was thinking about popping over tomorrow to help with the baking since the emptiness of the house was starting to give her unsettling feelings.

She made sure to keep all the lights on whenever nightfall hit, of course, she only did this whenever she was home alone, which usually only happened on holidays when Mer was with her family. As she turned into the brightly lit kitchen, she made her way to the pantry and searched around for something that sounded good.

Before she could decide between something quick and easy like mac and cheese, or the longer wait of a baked potato and grilled chicken, the phone rang. Turning on a heel, she made her way to the cordless wall-phone and looked at the caller ID screen. That was when she froze in shock. That number... it was one of the two numbers she'd memorized over two years ago, and always kept fresh in her mind. A number off a contact card she kept carefully protected in a plastic cover in her wallet.

It had reached the fourth ring when she snapped out of it and grabbed up the cordless, hastily pressing the Talk button before it could go to the answering machine.

"_Hello_?" She blurted, voice high from the sudden anxiety she felt.

"Y-yeah. Hello. Is Rachelle Williams there?"

She knew that voice. "S-Sam? I mean, yes, this is her."

A heavy sigh, like desperate relief crackled into her ear. "Yeah, it's Sam. I'm so glad you remember, I wasn't sure if..." He stuttered to a pause, like he was rethinking his words. "..if you'd even be living in Maine anymore, but I checked the phone directory and your name was in there, so I figured... I'm so sorry. I know this is really sudden, and I have a really huge..." A huff. "A gigantic favor to ask of you." He said, words leaving his mouth in a frenzy.

"Sam, _Sam_. Calm down. What's wrong? What happened?" She asked, pulse pounding in her ears.

"It's Dean," he said in a shaky voice, tone so urgent and panicked it caused Rachelle's heart to jump with fear.

"What?! Is he okay?"

"I - yeah - I think. I mean, he should be. He's messed up real bad, and we need a place to hideout. We're in some trouble and - and I understand if you don't want to deal with this - "

"No! It's okay." She said quickly, cutting him off. "I wouldn't mind."

Sam made a small noise that sounded like a breathless prayer. "Do you have a garage? Our car needs to be hidden."

"The Impala?"

"Yeah."

"Uhm, yeah. I live with a friend, but she's out for Thanksgiving so there's an extra space."

"Good, that's good."

They were on the phone a few minutes as she gave him directions to the house, then she was saying "be careful, see you when you get here," before hanging up after his quick "thanks, I will. See ya."

Rachelle took a step back and stared at the phone in a shocked daze. Did that really just happen? Was she really going to see Sam and Dean again after two years?

Snapping out of her daze, she focused on the task of setting up the pull-out couch in the living room. Mer's mom had given it to them as a house-warming present, even if it was previously used in the den of their home. It wasn't often that they used the unfoldable bed, but sometimes a friend or relative would stop buy and stay over. She guessed that was kind of the point of the couch.

Clenching her jaw, she paused in putting fresh sheets down and took a calming breath. It wasn't that she was scared of seeing Sam and Dean again... no... it was just the memories that were resurfacing after hearing Sam's voice. She was steadily remembering it all, every second of those few days.

Rachelle hadn't been sure she'd ever see them again after that day... and lord knows she considered dialing Dean's contact number a thousand times, but everytime she picked up a phone, she froze with doubt. The number was suppose to be called in an emergency... and what would she say? Hi. Are you okay? You are? That's great. Okay. Bye.

She sort of felt like that was where their story was suppose to end. And something deep in her whispered that they were strong, and they were capable. They'd be fine.

She finished putting the bed together, then grabbed an old blanket form the hall closet to spread over the comforter since she had a sinking feeling that blood was going to be present when Sam and Dean arrived.

Her nerves got the best of her, and had her racing around the house to prepare for the boys. She pulled out all her first aid type items, and even filled a bowl with hot water for cleaning any wounds. She had just finished rounding up a handful of rags to put on the table near the pull-out when she heard the garage door closing.

Rachelle didn't give herself time to think, just hurried to the front door and wrenched it open. Sam was coming down the walk from the garage, but that wasn't what grabbed her attention. Dean was hoisted over his shoulder bonelessly in a fireman's carry.

"Hey." Sam blurted nervously as he stepped up to the porch. He smiled gratefully when she wordlessly opened the door wider for him to come in.

"Uhm, I - I set up a bed in the living room. Just to the left there."

Sam nodded and made his way into the living room, Rachelle close behind after locking the door behind them. He carefully dropped Dean down onto the fold-out bed, then dropped to his knees and started digging through a big, black bag she hadn't noticed when he first came in.

"There's warm water and rags there, uhm... I had a bit of guaze and some peroxide..." She trailed off.

Sam nodded, but didn't look at her when he responded, too busy setting up what he needed. "Thank you so much, that'll help."

"What - How bad is it?"

Sam ran a hand through his hair and opened a square box, pulling out a needle and some thread. "We were doing a hunt in New Hampshire... a poltergeist. They can always be unpredictable... tricky." He squinted one eye as he went about threading the needle. Dean lay motionless on the bed covered in rivulets of dried blood, but his chest rose and fell. "I was in the living room, putting a hole in the wall for the last part of the cleansing spell when the-" He grit his teeth, trying to steady his shaking hand and finally got the thread through the needle hole. "-the bay window just explodes. So Dean comes out of nowhere and pushes me down. That's why he has all the little gashes, and there's probably glass all in him... damn it... and if that wasn't enough, when we're trying to find the damn bag that _I_ dropped after the window combusted, this hulking vase comes soaring through the air. Manages to crack him on the head and send him slamming into the wall, and that's where he dislocated his shoulder."

Rachelle put a hand over her mouth in horror before taking it away to speak. "Shouldn't you take him to a hospital?"

"No, I mean... I'd prefer it, but I'm pretty sure he's going to be okay. He was a bit out of it when he woke up a few minutes later. I'd taken care of the last part of the spell by then and the poltergeist was history." Sam was quiet a second as he soaked the end of a rag in hot water, then went about cleaning the still weeping wound on the side of Dean's head. "He sobered up fast and answered all my questions fine... and we've gone through enough concussions to know if one's bad or not... and I don't think this one's bad. So I let him have some pain killers and put his shoulder back. That's when he passed out. He was probably more exhausted than in pain... he... he hasn't been sleeping well." Sam mumbled, not going any further.

Rachelle came to stand beside him, but looked away as he begun stitching. "I wish I could be more help."

Sam shook his head. "You've already done too much. To put this on you after so long..."

Rachelle put a hand on his shoulder. "Stop, Sam. Really, it's okay... I... I kind of wanted to see you guys again sometime... after what happened... certainly not like this... but I'd been hoping we might run into each other on accident or something." She said with a nervous laugh.

Sam cut the thread as he finished and smiled up at her. "I think we could've been good friends... if things were different. I wish they were all the time..." He finished his sentence like someone who'd seen more than one lifetime, and it made Rachelle ache inside. He was still so young, and yet he'd been doing this since he was a kid. The unfairness of it was baffling.

"Ughh... it feels like I just got poked in the head a lot..."

Rachelle watched as the years shed from Sam's face instantly, a dimpled grin lighting his features. "You did."

"Oh, good." Dean groaned, reaching up to rub a hand over his face. He opened his eyes then and blinked blearily, staring at Sam, then Rachelle. "...Rachelle?"

She smiled hesitantly and waved. "Hi."

Dean looked to Sam again. "You see her, too, right?"

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, Dean. She was awesome enough to give us a place to hideout... you know, after the cops showed up from all the noise."

"Aw man... we totally messed that job up..."

"Could've been worse."

"I guess." Dean said, not sounding all that convinced. He fixed his eyes back on Rachelle. "It's good to see you again...really good."

Rachelle grinned, and tried not to blush. "Good to see you, too. Despite the circumstances."

Dean flashed a lazy grin, and she suddenly remembered how it was her favorite expression.

He winced suddenly and swore. "What the fuck you doin', Sam?"

Sam held up a small piece of glass he'd dislodged from Dean's knuckle. "You're kind of full of 'em."

Dean sighed gloomily. "Why can't poltergeists haunt strip clubs?"

Rachelle snorted and Sam rolled his eyes.

xXxXx

Rachelle shook the little hot chocolate packet in one hand, trying to get all the powder and mini-marshmallows on one side of the bag so it wouldn't explode everywhere when she opened it. Her favorite mug was rotating in the microwave, the water inside of it beginning to steam. With the Winchesters in her presence once more, she couldn't find sleep. Hot chocolate was her last resort, but she knew it probably wouldn't coax her to sleep.

She took a deep breath and glanced again to the doorway, and even though she couldn't see the boys from the kitchen, it had become a nervous habit. Seeing Dean standing there on her next glance had her inhaling sharply and making a startled "oh!" noise.

Dean winced and looked apologetic. "Sorry. I was gonna say somethin', but I didn't wanna startle you. Looks like I kinda messed that up."

Rachelle took a calming breath and grinned. "It's okay. No harm done." She turned to the microwave, then looked back at him. "Uhm, I'm making hot chocolate... want some?"

Dean smirked lightly. "Got any liquor to mix with it?"

Rachelle smiled sheepishly and shook her head. "We don't have any in the house, just some cheap wine for special occasions. We usually save the heavier drinks for when we go out."

Dean nodded cooly, and shrugged with his good shoulder. "Guess I'll have it straight up, then."

Rachelle laughed softly, and pulled out another mug. "Does Sam want some?"

Dean tossed a look over his shoulder and smiled gently. "Nah. He's passed out."

She fixed her attention on his softly curved lips. It was near impossible to help. He had such a sweet smile, especially when it was directed toward his brother.

When she saw those lips curve deeper into something playful and charming, she snapped out of her stare and met Dean's amused eyes. A wave of embarrassment shot through her at being caught oogling him, and she looked away to hide her blush. She was pretty sure her mug was ready so she jabbed the release button and the microwave door popped open. Careful not to burn herself, she set the steaming mug on the counter, then filled Dean's mug with water and put it in the microwave.

Rachelle busied herself with mixing in her hot chocolate so she didn't have to look at Dean. Her heart was rabbitting in her chest and she felt like such a dork for being so worked up over him catching her looking. It's not like she'd never openly oogled a guy before, but she knew that with Dean, it was just different.

"So, the cat still around?" Dean asked casually, and even though it was a lot like a conversation starter, he honestly sounded curious.

Rachelle welcomed the new topic, and managed to throw him a small smile. "Uhm, yeah. Still has lots of years left in him. He does his disappearing act when guests show up, but maybe he'll come out for you guys."

The microwave dinged then and she pulled out the mug and mixed in another hot chocolate packet. Dean took the mug in his free hand when she brought it to him, heedless of the heat. His other arm was tucked into his zipped up jacket to keep weight off his sore shoulder.

He shifted uncomfortably all of a sudden and looked toward the front door. "Wanna get some air?"

Rachelle couldn't help smiling shyly as she nodded. "Sure."

They both bundled up since it was a chilly fifty degrees out and stepped quietly onto the porch steps before sitting down on the first step. Rachelle shifted a bit and then settled, letting Dean's good shoulder rest along hers, and though it was cold out, she felt anything but.

They were quiet for a minute or two, just sipping at their hot chocolate. Rachelle decided to speak up, curious about Dean and Sam's lives. "It must be pretty cool getting to travel around, huh? Just seeing other states."

Dean was silent a moment, staring out at the deserted street. It was nearly three in the morning, and there was barely any wind. It was peaceful. "Yeah... I mean... to tell you the truth, we must've been to every state on the map dozens of times... you kind of stop noticing differences." He smirked at her, but she thought she saw something dark in his eyes. "California is probably the coolest out of all of 'em, though. You pretty much got everything there."

Rachelle smiled and nodded a bit. "California it is, then."

Dean grinned over at her. "You goin' on a roadtrip or somethin'?"

She huffed a laugh, looking down at her house slippers. "I've been planning on it, and so far I always put it off, or something gets in the way, but you only have one life, you know? I want to... do it right... or something like that."

Dean went still beside her, whispered a soft "Yeah..." as he set his mug down.

Something about the way his shoulders dipped just a smidgen made her set her own mug down and put a hand on his arm, murmur a questioning, "Dean?"

She watched his features draw up, like his was trying hard to stop something from popping to the surface. There was a battle going on behind his green eyes, before his expression suddenly smoothed out and all that was there was sorrow. "My... my father..." He choked out, jaw working. "He...he..."

Dean dropped his head with a frustrated, almost angry sigh, hand scrubbing through his hair once.

Rachelle didn't need him to go on. She felt grief hit her so hard, she was momentarily stunned. "Oh, Dean..." She let out breathlessly. She couldn't explain why she felt his pain so keenly, but then he turned his head and looked at her, and she knew. Despair rolled off him in thick, black waves; hit her that much stronger when their gazes met.

Dean looked startled when the first tear rolled from her eyes, followed by another.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured tightly, and before she could stop herself, her arms carefully wound around his neck. She rested her chin on his shoulder and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. God! Why was she the one crying like this? She thought that maybe she should be embarrassed, but she couldn't feel it. Not with so much grief washing through her. It was just... Dean's eyes. When he'd looked at her... she'd never seen such haunted eyes... never known a sorrow that could go so deep.

After a moment, she felt his good arm wrap around her and pull her closer. His cheek pressed against her jaw, chin tucked at her shoulder, and then she felt a single drop of warmth roll down her neck. As soon as she felt the tear's warmth, Dean's hand fisted up the material of her thick hoodie and held on tightly.

Rachelle clenched her teeth tightly and swallowed back a sob as Dean's shoulders started to hitch lightly. He barely made a sound, just took shaky breaths every few seconds, but she could feel the hot tears that escaped his eyes one after another. Her heart felt like it was being rung painfully, and it baffled her how closely tied she felt to Dean, yet she barely knew anything about him.

She doesn't know how long they stayed like that, just holding onto each other and silently crying, but eventually Dean stopped shaking and his breathes grew smoother, the ocassional sniff sounding from both of them.

"I.." Dean mumbled suddenly, his voice shuddering deep inside her head. "I don't know what to do without him." He took a breath, tone going even quieter. "I'm so lost... He taught me almost everything I know... and then... and then he was just _gone_. Just like that."

Rachelle ran her hand soothingly through the hair at the nape of his neck, not feeling it right to say anything yet.

Dean leaned into her just a bit more, and went on tiredly. "Sammy... he means well... I know he does... but I... I just don't want to _talk _about it with him... you know..." Dean sniffed. "With those... those eyes that just remind me of him... and sometimes his voice... it hits the right pitch... and it's like bein' slapped in the face all over again.... He's dead..." Dean's voice grew more wrecked. "My father is _dead_..."

He held her tighter and she embraced him that much more closely.

"I wanna wake up... and I want this all just to be some really shitty nightmare I can forget..." Dean mumbled, regaining a steadier tone. "Dad'll pound on the door of our room and yell "Five minutes boys!" and then we'll be on the road again. Just me, and Sammy, and Dad... Us against the world..."

A soft silence settled around them for a few minutes before a gust of wind carried an empty soda can noisily down the road. He pulled away then, and she let him, watching silently as he wiped his hand across his face and took a deep breath to compose himself.

"I am so freakin' hungry." He breathed out abruptly.

Rachelle smiled tenderly and bumped his shoulder with her own. "How do grilled cheese sandwiches sound?"

Dean met her eyes and grinned lightly. "Pretty fuckin' amazing."

It was like going back in time when she saw the gratefulness behind those green irises, and she simply replied with her own quiet _anytime_.

She stood up and brushed off the seat of her pants; smiled down at him with a returning shyness. "Then you're in luck. I happen to make the best grilled cheese sandwiches this side of Maine."

"Yahtzee." Dean replied with that easy grin that drove her crazy.

xXxXx

Rachelle laughed softly as Dean split the halves of his grilled cheese sandwich apart, eyes delightedly tracking the way the cheese fanned out before breaking away to whichever side. "My compliments to the chef." Dean grinned before taking a hearty bite of one half. He closed his eyes like he was savoring the taste.

Rachelle smiled so hard her face hurt. It amazed her how innocent Dean could look, despite the life he led and the pains he'd been through.

She looked over as she heard heavy, shuffling footsteps. Sam appeared in the doorway, rubbing at his eyes sluggishly.

"Sammy!" Dean said around his mouthful, making Rachelle giggle. "You gotta try this."

Sam grinned sleepily and made his way over to plunk down into a kitchen chair. "Grilled cheese sandwiches?" He asked with amusement, looking over at Rachelle who beamed proudly.

Dean grinned and handed Sam the other half of his sandwich. Rachelle adoringly watched as Sam took it with a grateful smirk before sinking his teeth into a corner. After a bit of chewing, he met Dean's eye. Dean wiggled his brows and nodded like he was saying, _"Good, right?"_

Sam smiled deviously and used a hand to shield the view of his mouth from Rachelle, but not Dean. She raised a brow, confused until Dean's eyes went wide and he snorted suddenly. His hand flew up to cover his mouth, just in case, as he glared at Sam. "Dude, gross." He choked out with a scowl but his eyes showed the hidden smile.

Sam dropped his hand and smiled innocently over at Rachelle. He swallowed the rest of his sandwich before speaking. "Says the guy who talks with his mouth full."

Dean ignored him. "I didn't need to see your masticated food, Sam."

Sam snorted. "Big words today, Dean. Maybe that vase knocked something into place."

"_I'm_ about to knock something into place." Dean threatened lamely.

"I take back my previous statement." Sam dead-panned.

Rachelle broke into tiny giggles and shook her head. "You guys are as bad as ever."

Dean looked sheepish and Sam smiled cheekily.

"Should I make more?" She questioned, looking between them.

"Yes, please." Dean replied, smiling nice and big. It took all her willpower not to smother him with hugs. He was seriously bad for her heart, they both were. Too damn adorable.

"Now he has manners." Sam snarked, then grunted when Dean stamped on his foot.

Rachelle turned back to the stove with a light heart as a violent version of footsie erupted under her kitchen table.

xXxXx

Dean held up a frozen turkey that had to be way over twenty pounds. He grinned like those fishermen in the pictures, standing next to their gigantic catch. "What about this one?"

Rachelle burst into laughter as Sam rolled his eyes hopelessly. "It's just us three, Dean, Jesus. That could feed a small army."

"So?" Dean said, pouting. "We could be a small army."

"No." Sam said sternly, crossing his arms.

Dean frowned harder. "_Sam._"

"No!"

Dean turned pleading eyes on Rachelle this time. She was wiping at her eyes, moisture having collected there from laughing too hard. Their trip to Walmart was turning into quite an entertaining adventure. It took some convincing, but Rachelle had insisted they stay around another day so she could make them a Thanksgiving meal, even if the actual day wasn't until tomorrow. It also happened to be five thirty in the morning, and she was officially insane.

Sam didn't give Rachelle time to respond as he strode over to Dean. "Damn it, Dean, put the turkey down before you hurt yourself."

"I just dislocated my shoulder, Sam. I'm not an invalid." Dean complained.

"_Put the turkey down!_" Sam spat out swiftly, reaching out to take the frozen hunk.

"No!" Dean snapped, yanking the turkey from his reach by turning away.

Rachelle huffed out a disbelieving laugh and hurried forward to stop them from killing each other.

xXxXx

"It smells so good. I hate waiting." Dean grumbled four hours later before knocking his knuckles on the kitchen table. "Hit me."

Sam rolled his eyes at a smirking Rachelle and tossed Dean a card. "Quit bitching or I'll put you out and me n' Rachelle will eat while you stare pathetically through the kitchen window."

"A window can't keep me out." Dean threatened, assessing the cards before him.

Rachelle gasped in mock horror. "Dean! You would break _my_ window?"

Dean glanced over at her with a small smile. "Sam would pay for it."

"The hell I would."

"I'm going to put you both out." Rachelle muttered in amusement, waiting to see if she'd win this hand of Black Jack.

"Nobody's puttin' anyone out, so there." Dean mumbled tersely before boldly saying, "Hit me."

Sam tossed a card and cackled. "Bust!"

"Yes!" Rachelle said with triumph and scooped the handful of quarters toward her.

xXxXx

Rachelle woke a while later with her head pillowed on her arms which were crisscrossed over the arm of the living room recliner. Sam and Dean were immediately in sight as she blinked to clear her sleepy vision. Both boys had passed out sitting next to each other on the couch, their socked feet resting on the coffee table.

Rachelle yawned and smiled, watching the rise of fall of their chests. It was so odd how well the three of them got along... and after so long, too. It seemed unfair that she'd never truly be able to be friends with them... never truly get to know them.

She stood carefully and made her way into the kitchen to check on the turkey. Only thirty more minutes! She smiled to herself and moved to the pantry to pull out some potatoes, then set them by the sink and started peeling them.

It was Sam who appeared at her side this time, all sleepy-eyed, but looking much more rested. Rachelle wasn't startled this time, but maybe that was just because Sam was so tall, his shadow ended up giving him away. She was sure he could be plenty stealthy if he had to be. Knowing that he felt relaxed in her home, safe even, made her feel good.

"Need some help?" He asked softly.

Rachelle shrugged and nodded, saying "Sure," before handing over a couple of potatoes and getting out another peeling knife.

He took the knife, washed a potato, and then started peeling. The silence was companionable and easy.

Rachelle didn't know she was going to say something until it sprung up in her mind, but she felt like now was as good a time as any. "Hey, Sam..." She began, and he hummed back, curious. She studied the potato she was curving in her palm, peel still connected and spiraling off to the side. "I just wanted you to know... you're welcome here. You and Dean... anytime."

She glanced over and caught his eye. Sam had a thoughtful expression on his face as he nodded, then she looked back at her task so he was just in the corner of her eye again. "I mean it... if you're ever in trouble... like what happened yesterday. Feel free to give me a call." She huffed softly. "Even if you're halfway across the country... maybe there's something I can do."

Feeling like she'd said enough, she just focused on peeling while Sam stayed quiet beside her, then he bumped her gently with his shoulder.

"Thanks, Rachelle... it means... it means more than you know."

She grinned and bumped him back.

xXxXx

Dean groaned obscenely from across the table, another forkful of turkey making its way into his already stuffed mouth. "Sho...sho.. gud."

Rachelle laughed softly and Sam sighed.

"You choke and you're on your own, bro." Sam said with an evil little grin.

Dean just grinned back, chewing loudly. "S'ok... Rachelle wulh hulp me, righ'?"

Rachelle set her glass down after taking a sip and looked up in thought, pointer finger tapping her chin. "Hmm... maybe."

Dean gave her an indignant look."Twait-uh."

Rachelle and Sam snorted at the same time.

"Twait-uh," Sam mocked, pouting sadly at Rachelle, who giggled.

Dean threw a leg bone at Sam's head, but Sam lifted his arm in time to deflect it, only it bounced off his wrist and landed in his mashed potatoes.

Sam scowled and Dean cackled before he made a gasping sound right after. Then he was coughing loudly into his hand, eyes watering.

Sam sat back in his chair, looking smug. "Serves you right."

Rachelle was smiling and rolling her eyes as she patted Dean firmly on the back. He was coughing up a storm, but he still managed to flip his brother the bird.

xXxXx

_Sam's POV_

Later, as the sun was setting out the window and stomachs were full, Rachelle got a call from family and excused herself from the living room. Sam and Dean sat side by side on the couch, both on a second helping of cherry pie and working their way to a third.

Dean finished his last bite and sat back with an _I-am-so-full_ groan.

Sam was still four bites behind so he let the comfortable silence settle around them, the TV a soft, background murmur.

It wasn't so much a surprise when Dean spoke up, it was what he said. "Think she'll adopt us?"

Sam smirked around his mouthful of pie. "Definitely," he chuckled after he gulped down his bite. "I mean, I'm a package deal, but she's so smitten by me I'm sure having you around won't be too bad."

Dean knuckled Sam in the side, making him grunt in disapproval. "Always with the violence." Sam said, exasperated.

"Always with the smart mouth." Dean countered in the same tone.

They fell into quiet again, until Sam broke the silence. "We could totally stay."

Dean huffed a laugh and played along. "Yeah, and where would we stay?"

Sam grinned. "Could buy a run down winnebago and park it out front. Live the high life."

Dean snorted. "Bet Rachelle would just love that."

Sam smiled a bit ruefully. "I bet she would." He didn't mean for it to sound so serious... or maybe he did.

Dean didn't say anything for a long moment, then he opened his mouth and muttered roughly, "Eat your pie."

Sam did.

xXxXx

_Rachelle's POV_

It was past midnight when the boys started getting their gear together. They'd both taken showers right before which had given Rachelle time to put all the leftovers in tupperware. Now she stacked them into Sam's arms, and he was grinning pretty happily. So was Dean, but it didn't quite remove the underlying sombreness in the air.

Teetering with his armful, Sam went out the front door and to the Impala, leaving Dean and Rachelle alone.

Rachelle smileed shyly when Dean turned to her with a charming smirk."Sorry to eat and run." He said with a little shrug.

Rachelle snickered softly and shook her head. "The world isn't gonna save itself, right?"

Dean huffed a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. "Damn straight. Seriously need to find a new sidekick, though. Mine is way too bitchy."

Rachelle laughed loudly, came out of it to Dean smiling that completely knee-weakening smile at her. She felt her heart stutter and start to pound in her chest as he shifted closer. Then he was leaning forward and pressing his lips to hers. It was achingly sweet in its chasteness, and over way too fast.

Dean stepped away, looking bashful with his mouth curved in the cutest little smile. The moment reminded her a lot of awkward teens at the end of a first date.

Rachelle knew her cheeks were tinged pink, and there was a giant smile tugging at her lips. It seemed to bring back some of Dean's usual sureness, cause he smiled wider and threw her a wink. "Thank you... for everything. Be safe, okay?"

She nodded wordlessly, wanted to say 'you, too,' but her mouth wouldn't work.

Dean grinned brightly, the corner of his eyes crinkling in delight. "See ya." He said, softly, and then he was gone.

Rachelle was still gathering herself when Sam reappeared a minute or two later. He grinned and opened his arms for a hug, which she gladly stepped into. He lifted her off her feet for a second, making her giggle, before setting her down gently.

"God, I'm going to miss you guys." She can't help from gushing as she stepped from the embrace.

Sam half-smiled, and his eyes shone genuinely when he said, "We're gonna miss you, too." Then he sighed heavily with mock annoyance. "Dean'll eat all those leftovers in one night."

Rachelle laughed softly. "I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. He can put it away."

Sam grinned and rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes he can." The way he said it had Rachelle thinking of Dean's face on banned posters in all-you-can-eat buffets across America.

She caught Sam's eye and they both huffed reluctantly. This was a joint effort in stalling, and they knew it.

Rachelle gave him another hug, quicker this time. "Alright. Look out for yourselves... wear clean underwear, all that jazz."

Sam chuckled lowly, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. "Yes ma'am." Then he was turning away and heading to the open door. He stopped at the threshold and gave a little wave. "Thank you so much. This was really great."

Rachelle smiled and felt her eyes sting with threatening tears. "Anytime, Sam."

He grinned then, really big and sweet, just as charming as his brother. He didn't say bye, just gave her a look that spoke volumes and disappeared.

She stepped up to the doorway and watched them back out, drive off down the street. They left like the first time, without looking back, and her heart swelled with all kinds of well-wishes as she tracked the Impala's shrinking figure.

* * *

_The End._

**A/N: **Well, that's it for now. I am definitely considering doing another Rachelle encounter, especially for into Season 4. I think that'd be an interesting write. Who knows. Thanks so much for reading! Mega smishes for Enkidu07 again. I couldn't have finished this without your amazingness!


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